


The Rabbit Boy

by Luspiel



Series: The Rabbit Boy Universe [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Artistic Liberties, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Death Eaters, F/M, First War with Voldemort, He gets one eventually, I have so many feelings about Regulus Black, I promise you it's better than my tags, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Not A Fix-It, Occasional fluff, POV Regulus Black, Regulus Black Deserves Better, Regulus Black Feels, Regulus Black Needs a Hug, Regulus Black-centric, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Nothing, Walburga Black's A+ Parenting, You Have Been Warned, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25191961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luspiel/pseuds/Luspiel
Summary: An (overly) ambitious take on vignettes into Regulus Black's life and what could have been....Goodness is a spectrum and just because he can’t always see it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist. There is light somewhere within and Regulus has yet to meet a person totally encompassed by the darkness.
Relationships: Bartemius Crouch Jr. & Regulus Black & Evan Rosier, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Orion Black & Regulus Black, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Regulus Black & Black Family, Regulus Black & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Regulus Black & Severus Snape, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Regulus Black & Walburga Black, Sirius Black & James Potter, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter, Sirius Black & Walburga Black
Series: The Rabbit Boy Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773913
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	1. In which Family Dinner Goes to Die

**Author's Note:**

> There was much staring to be had when cousin Bella sat down. The entirety of the table looked at her funny, however two black haired boys were doing their best to look as incredulous as possible. Young actors as they were, it was still hard to look as mystified as the rest of the table when they were known for juvenile pranks. Thankfully the attention was diverted from them when Cissy opened her mouth to question her cousin's loud passing of gas and a toad hopped out of her open mouth. Walburga Black was so affronted that when she stood it seemed as though she had farted fireworks. 

Then crap really hit the fan when all the food upon the table turned into rabbits and hopped away. Everyone was standing causing several more rounds of fireworks and every seven words Narcissa Black uttered were punctuated by a toad hopping to freedom. As everyone ran around trying to catch the swift rabbits and more fireworks exploded the two black haired boys Sirius and Regulus could no longer hold their laughter in. Laughter bubbled up from their throats like a long awaited eruption and tears flowed from their eyes. 

"Sirius!" came their father's booming voice. 

Sirius at once straightened up and stopped his guffawing, "Yes, father."

His mother took over quickly, "How dare you so disgustingly disturb family dinner time! Even after being sorted into that putrescent excuse for a house you still have the gall to come back home and act a fool. Have you no shame?" She waited a moment for her words to sink in for greater effect, and it worked. Sirius frowned and deflated slightly. "And Regulus, must you always go along with your brother's juvenile and degenerate schemes? Don't you have a mind of your own for goodness sake!" In truth it had been Regulus to propose family dinner time as their stage. He had also been the one to suggest the fireworks and toads out of Cissy's mouth (she had stolen his candy from Easter). Despite this Regulus hung his head, he didn't like to make his mother angry, it's just that he thought it might be funny, and he had never seen her laugh.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
The cellar was dark and damp not to mention cramped with two boys huddled against the door for light and warmth. The moist stone chilled their bodies in a slow and uncomfortable way. Sirius was weighing the pros and cons of their little prank. On one hand they had covered the classics, Regulus had gotten his revenge, and the face his mother’s face had been priceless. It had all been roaring good fun, but now they were confined to the cellar for two days without food and maybe without water. 

Sirius also couldn't help but be worried over Regulus. He couldn't see his face clearly in the darkness of the cellar, but he assumed he was less than jovial at the turn of events if he had his face buried in his arms and knees. Sirius suggests the prank and Regulus fills in many of the blanks, but afterwards he always took their punishments much harder than Sirius. He cast the lumos spell and peered over at Regulus's shaking frame. 'Was he crying?!' That would be bad, very bad, so Sirius took a deep breath in and prepared to try and comfort him. A strangled sound cut through the silence and Regulus looked up at the newly acquired light. His face, split into a smile, was glowing, cheeks blotchy from all of the laughter concealed though it may have been. 

"Did you see Cissy's face when the first toad jumped out? It was priceless, Siri, priceless!" Regulus took some time to calm down a bit, "Oh, this may have been one of our more idiotic capers, but it certainly was rewarding," he murmured, voice still filled with mirth. 

Sirius, however bemused as he was, smirked graciously, "You're telling me? I only wished we had made the toads come out of mum's mouth instead." 

Regulus's smiled faltered, "Why do you always have to antagonize her?" 

Sirius turned his head toward Regulus who in turn looked at his hands, "Because believe it or not, it's not normal to lock your children in a cellar with no food or water for two days." Regulus made a face, one of bewilderment, suspicion, and innocent trust. Sirius turned away from the scene, "I always got weird stares when I mentioned that to my friends." Regulus scoffed but held his peace. 

"Apparently it isn't exactly normal to neglect your children in a cramped dark cellar filled with alcohol." Regulus almost grinned at that, they were surrounded by bottles and kegs of spirits. 

"Let me guess, your new Gryffindor friends told you that." 

Sirius recoiled, feeling the bitterness in the sentence, "Not exactly, I pieced it together from the pitying looks they gave me when they thought I wasn't looking." 

Regulus hummed, "Why do you stay friends with them if you know it upsets mother and father? Unless...that's exactly why." 

Sirius places his hands on his little brother's shoulders prompting him to look up, grey meeting grey. "Because I actually feel accepted when I'm with them. I feel...safe." 

It embarrassed him to share such a sentiment with his younger brother, but he knew Reggie would never understand unless he was honest. "Do you know what that feels like? To be around people and in a place where your every movement won't be judged." That same expression was back, eyes wide with innocence and eyebrows creased in suspicion. It was hesitant and scared and everything a Black wasn't. Sirius has hope for his brother and shuddered to think about what would happen when these emotions were stomped out of him if he was put in Slytherin house. 

Finally Regulus opened his mouth to speak, "You didn't have to go with rabbits." It only took a moment for Sirius to recover from the verbal whiplash caused by such a swift topic change. He knew this method well (in fact he was the author of it). Avoidance was a virtue in the Black Household.

Sirius tutted with a smile, "You still have much to learn in the art of pranking, Reg. 'Be vexing but not everlasting.' Rabbits are fast so they were able to escape quickly instead of facing death." 

Regulus considered this for a moment, "That may be so, but I still hate them. They're at the bottom of the food chain and spend most of their lives just running away from things stronger than it. If you ask me, I think they deserve to die for being so weak." 

Sirius wasn't surprised by his brother's cruelty, he had always vehemently hated rabbits for some reason. Well no, not always. "Yes, they're weak, but I still find it admirable that they continue to live and survive despite that. They don't trust easily and will run at every chance they get. They don't give up even when living on an entire planet full of things bigger and stronger than it." Sirius smiled wryly, "You remind me of a rabbit with thousands of enemies trailing it, yet refusing to accept its fate and die doing nothing. You would rather die running than suffer the same fate sitting still." 

Regulus huffed, "I despise your comparison of me to a rabbit. It's most foul. What if I related you to a pillow? How would you feel, hm?" Sirius chuckled lightly when Reg indeed used him as a pillow. Softening his light charm to barely a glimmer he resisted the urge to stroke his hair. Rabbits were jumpy creatures after all.


	2. Of Dreams and Other Shams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't resist uploading another chapter. Enjoy!

“You’re just as much a disappointment as your brother,” Walburga sneered.

“You don’t mean that! You love Sirius.” Regulus couldn’t believe his ears! Sirius has always been his mother’s favorite even after he was sorted into Gryffindor and shamed the family, mother still doted on him constantly. 

“Gryffindor I could tolerate just barely, but HUFFLEPUFF! That I cannot allow.” In one swift motion Walburga turned and hurled an orange spell at him. 

Regulus just barely jumped out of the way. He staggered to his feet in a daze and looked behind himself to see the family tapestry smoldering behind him. His face had been reduced to a blackened spot still sizzling.

“You will never be enough.”  
.  
.  
.  
.  
Regulus woke in a cold sweat. He felt like he needed both a shower and a warm hug. It took him several minutes to get control over his breathing and afterwards he was left with only a feeling of anger at the nature of his dream, then, dull resignation. 

Regulus thought he should leave Sirius alone. Tomorrow they were leaving for Hogwarts and he would need his rest. He stared at the ceiling for maybe 5 minutes before sighing. Sirius’s door was unlocked despite the numerous no trespassing signs taped to it. His door squeaked open to reveal white moonlight spilling into the room. Sirius even had a dramatic way of sleeping.

“Budge up,” Regulus demanded, climbing onto his bed causing it to depress. 

“Mrrh, nightmare?” Sirius asked bleary-eyed. There was only one person in the world who would be so forward in climbing into Sirius’s own bed. 

Regulus nodded forcing Sirius to open his eyes wider. “What about?” Regulus shook his head this time, and Sirius sighed in response. Regulus knew he wouldn’t be going to Gryffindor house come tomorrow.

Regulus studied the purple draperies swaying in the wind. It was still humid and hot this late August, and Regulus was thankful for the small breeze. He and Sirius continued to sit in silence for a while. 

“I was in Hufflepuff, and mother blasted me off the family tapestry.” 

“Regulus, you know you’d never get Hufflepuff,” Sirius reasoned. “But for what it’s worth, mum would never do that. Even after I got Gryffindor she just threw a hissy fit and goes on about it, nothing serious.”

Regulus ignored the pun even as his brother smiled, goading him. “How did it feel to be sorted—into Gryffindor, I mean.”

Sirius looked at the ceiling like it was showing him the meaning of life. “To be honest....I was really scared.” Regulus must still be dreaming. Of course Sirius had had fears before, but he would never admit them outright.

“I was shocked, I didn’t know how mum would react—hell I didn’t know how I would react! And I almost teared up like a little baby, but then I was joined by my friends who I had met on the train, and they were all in Gryffindor.” He looked wistful here, like he was an old man looking back on better times. “We were even all roommates, talk about fated! After a while I began to see that Gryffindor was where I truly belonged. So what I’m trying to say is, the sorting hat knows best in this situation, and you should go where it puts you. You might end up really glad you did,” Sirius smiled, it was soft and unusual. It unnerved Regulus, but he hid the reaction well.

“Even if I end up a ‘Puff,” Regulus whined.

“Yes, even you end up a ‘Puff, Reggie. Which I honestly just don’t think could happen. I’ll eat my broom if you go to Hufflepuff!”

He laughed, “I’m holding you to that, Siri. Maybe I’ll ask for Hufflepuff just so I get to see you choke down your new Nimbus 1700.” They both laughed at that, but the laughter quickly petered out replaced by a pregnant pause in the conversation. Regulus didn’t want to go back to the topic of sortings. He knew nothing less than Slytherin was expected of him, and now that Sirius had buggered things up it would be even more embarrassing if his parents had no Slytherin kids at all. Regulus had to get into Slytherin. 

‘You just want to be better than your brother at something.’ He struggled to banish the traitorous thoughts. ‘He could probably pull off both Slytherin and Gryffindor if given the chance. But you can only follow orders like some mutt.’

Sirius looked over at the quiet, shaken Regulus and frowned. “Fancy a story?”

“I'm not a baby, I don't need you to read me bedtime stories anymore,” Regulus argued.

Sirius looked smug, “You're right you aren't a baby, but you are in my room and in my bed, and I fancy telling a story right about now. However, if you're really adamant about it then I suppose I can't force you to stay.” 

Regulus remained silent, sometimes he hated his older brother. Sirius just smirked at Regulus’s glare, which was pretty intimidating for his age. “Alright then, that’s what I thought. Now where to begin...” Sirius trailed off looking at the ceiling, which by the way, had lovely gold detailing. 

“Polaris and the Many Mirrors,” Regulus offered.

“What? That story is so creepy! Plus didn’t Cissy already tell you that one?”

Regulus shrugged as much as he could while on his side, “It’s my favorite.”

“Only because Bella told everyone you would wet the bed after hearing it,” Sirius snorted.

Regulus remained calm, it wasn’t like he had actually wet the bed like she foresaw, therefore he had no reason to be embarrassed. Bella was just messing with him like always. She always dared him to do things under the threat of telling lies about him. 

Once during their French lesson where she was supposed to be teaching him, she dared him to eat all the jelly in the house. It was stupid, but he was seven and she was seventeen, an adult, so he did it anyway thinking that adults always knew best. He felt sick for nearly a fortnight and was yelled at by Aunt Druella who had her precious apricot jam devoured for the cause. It was then that he found that not every adult cared about you, and you can follow no one blindly. 

But he was 8 when he finally realized he didn’t have to dignify her taunts with a response and could coolly deny any of her accusations if he had enough poise. His upbringing awarded him many things: perfect posture, etiquette, a good vocabulary, the skill of masking expressions, and the ability to deny, deny, deny.

“Nah, I’ll make up my own story,” Sirius chimed breaking up his thoughts. “It’s about a ruggedly good-looking Gryffindor who lives at the highest most point of Gryffindor tower.” Regulus rolls his eyes but settles in. Sirius was good at stories perhaps even better than Narcissa.

“He was brave and strong just like the Lion his house patronized. He would run into a burning house to save a baby. He could lift a fully grown man off the ground in a single swipe. He was beloved by all—“

—“And this guy goes to Hogwarts? What kind of steroid potions does his parents have him on?” Regulus cut in cynically.

Sirius ignored him, “But there was something no one knew about him. He had a fear...”

“A fear of heights! No of rejection! Toilets?” Sirius sent him the evil eye and Regulus held a face of perfect confusion. He usually sat quietly for story readings, but tonight he felt like being obnoxious. “Maybe bugs or worms? Possibly even a professor or his classmates—“

“—He had a FEAR OF STORMS!” Sirius yelled over Regulus’s, frankly abysmal guesses. Regulus cackled at Sirius who was seething, nostrils flared. “I don’t know why I try to do anything nice for you,” he huffed, turning on his side. 

Technically Regulus hadn’t asked for a story, but he was invested in this jumped-up Gryffindor now. “Oh no you don’t, you’re going to finish what you started.” Regulus pulled Sirius back to facing forward. 

Sirius crosses his arms like a child, “You had better not interrupt again.” Regulus nodded solemnly. “Okay, so this Gryffindor guy is afraid of storms, but he lives at the highest point of Gryffindor tower. When it rains the thunder rocks the entire room, lightning creating a false daylight.” 

Sirius was getting back into it now, “The thunder grumbles and rumbles all throughout the night and the poor guy can never get any sleep. Every night when it storms he seals his bed curtains and counts to 100 to get to sleep. If that fails him, then he counts to 500 or 1,000 before he even begins to feel sleepy. However, once he finally falls asleep he is in a deep sleep, almost comatose.

“One night there’s a fire in Gryffindor tower. A stray lightning bolt hit the tower! None of his dormmates could rouse him from his slumber, but the dorm was going up in smoke! In a last attempt to save him, his 4 dormmates hoist his mattress into the Black Lake below before escaping.”

Regulus hadn’t even realized he was clutching the blankets so tightly until he looked down at his own white knuckles. He cleared his throat, “That was thoughtful of them.”

Sirius looked pityingly at him, “Yes their intentions were good. So few people had ever seen the man have any weaknesses, any flaws. None of them knew that he couldn’t swim. The Gryffindor fought against gravity pulling him down, but it was as if his body was made of lead. His legs and arms didn’t work like they should. His lungs weren’t taking in oxygen. He was drowning! He would die here with only the grindylows and giant squid as his witness. The poor guy,” Sirius hung his head in sadness. “Some days the Slytherins living below the lake claim that they can still see his thrashing body. See the bubbles pouring from his lips as he desperately looks for oxygen. Hear the banging on the glass and walls for a way in.” 

“I would hate to drown, it sounds like a painful death. But that probably could never happen anyway,” Regulus rationalized. 

“And why not?” Sirius said sitting up offended. 

Regulus followed suit, “I mean Hogwarts is heavily warded, there’s no way a lightning bolt could hit any of its towers. Secondly, they’re wizards and witches! Why can’t any of them put out the fire with their wands? Unless…it’s a magical fire and the lightning is just a cover-up. Somebody knew about his fear, somebody close to him if they knew he would be in deep sleep. Foul play is a high possibility.”

Sirius went from looking at him wide-eyed to a blank canvas. He clapped slowly, “Great, become an auror. I’m going to bed,” he flopped back down and turned over once more. 

“It was a good story, Siri, even if it had a few holes,” Regulus conceded feeling guilty. 

“Wow, gee thanks, I feel so—“

The door slowly creaked open. Regulus instantly flopped back onto the bed and tried to make himself as small as possible. Father disliked it when he slept in Sirius’s room. He really shouldn’t be here, he wasn’t a baby anymore. He feigned sleep, so he wouldn’t get an immediate scolding. 

Yellow light poured over grey sheets illuminating two sets of toes and one house elf.

“Kreacher! You scared me half to death,” Sirius whisper yelled. 

Regulus sighed as Kreacher shuffled his way in. “It is 2 in the morning, and Kreacher would have assumed that both Master Regulus and Master Sirius would be asleep by now, but Kreacher heard laughing and did not want the Mistress to wake.”

Regulus hadn’t even thought that they might be loud with their laughing and yelling. They were lucky it was only Kreacher. 

“Be a dear and don’t tell mum and father about this, okay,” Sirius propositioned. 

Kreacher sniffed at his try at coercion, but did not move. “I’ll go back to my own bed. I know how much mother and father hate it when I sleep here, and I’ll join you for breakfast in the morning so you can send me off,” Regulus added to the deal. Kreacher finally acquiesced and side-stepped out of the doorway. Regulus slid out of bed jolting at the coldness of the floor on his bare feet. 

“Goodnight, Sirius.”

“‘Night,” he replied. “Oh! and don’t worry about the sorting. We’ll still be brothers no matter your sorting, nothing can change blood.”


	3. Tradition!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what movie this title was inspired by.

Thousands of candles floated overhead just like Sirius and Cissy said they would. The light it exuded was a warm gold color that called on the cozy sense of home. Except Regulus's home had always been black and gray with the rare occasion of blindingly bright white. The line was slowly moving forward just like Regulus's anxiety was slowly growing as time passed. He scanned the hall of blurry faces for familiar ones. 

Sirius smiled at him and gave him a thumbs up from the Gryffindor table, and Cissy smiled genially at him from the Slytherin one. He received a nod and a smile from Andy at the far end of the Slytherin table. He briefly pondered what would happen if he was sorted into Gryffindor and what it would mean for the rest of his family. Regulus shook his head, effectively emptying his mind of the blasphemous thoughts. Finally he heard the call of his name. "Black, Regulus!"

A hush fell over the room, no doubt people were wondering if he would defy the odds like his brother did. He would not be sorry when he turned out to be a perfectly normal Black. Regulus sat down in the flimsy looking stool and immediately the Sorting hat was placed on his head. The brim reached slightly over his eyes blocking out his view of Sirius.

'My, my, what have we here? Another Black it would seem,' the sorting hat said in his head. Regulus knew of the legilimency used by the hat so instead of being surprised like mudbloods would be he decided to be cordial.

'Hello, Mr. Sorting Hat.'

'Oh so you've heard of me! I'm pleased,' there wasn't any sarcasm in the hat's voice. 'Let's get you sorted shall we. Your brother took no time at all to sort he did.' Regulus tensed, 'But you don't want to discuss your brother do you,' the hat hummed. Andy was right this process was terribly invasive, he only hoped that the entirety of the Great Hall could not hear what the hat was saying. 

'You are very Slytherin: crafty, intelligent, and cunning. However, I don't think you're quite ambitious enough.' 

'I am ambitious!' Regulus yelled in his head. This hat was so very rude and needed to be taken down a peg. 

'Ah, and here we see some bravery and is that a hint of chivalry I detect, how very Gryffindor of you.' 

'Don't put me in that stupid house. I have no business there.' 

'On the contrary more bravery would do you well especially under your circumstances. Not to mention that potential for self-sacrifice dormant in you.' What the bloody heck was that supposed to mean? And what were his circumstances?

The current consultation had been going on for about a minute and a half which was not nearly as long as the record hat stall but still on the longer side. Students in the Great Hall grew restless, but Sirius's attention remained on his brother and his constantly changing expression. Would his brother be like him? He eminently believed that Regulus was different from the rest of the family. He had so often seen kindness and gentleness and leniency and mercy in the boy that he just couldn't be Slytherin; he didn't fit the bill at all.

Back on the stool of sorting Regulus was having the argument of his life. 'You know which house would fit you well, Ravenclaw.' 

Regulus inwardly groaned, 'Noooo, Slytherin is all I want!' 

The sorting hat sniffed indignantly, 'I'm never wrong in my placements. I don't doubt that you would do well in Slytherin or that Gryffindor would greatly benefit you, but the "R" in Ravenclaw might as well stand for Regulus. I strongly recommend it, and I'm not in the habit of coercing students.' 

Regulus, if only for a moment, pondered what being in Ravenclaw would be like. When he said something witty it would not be lost on deaf ears, there were probably always quiet nooks to read in, and since the house was full of weirdos someone would probably find his puns funny. However, Regulus knew fantasy was not reality, and that if he were put into Ravenclaw there might not be a welcoming home waiting for him at the end of the term. He so desperately wanted his mother to be proud of him, for his father to look at him and nod in silent affirmation, for Sirius not to be yelled at every dinner—he wanted to be the better son. 

The time outside approached 4 minutes. 'Please put me in Slytherin, Mr. Hat. I'm begging you.' Regulus may have thought it was beneath him to beg for anything especially something as simple as a house placement, but to him it was so much more than that.

'But you would make a wonderful Ravenclaw. How smart and witty you are and not without your fair share of originality and uniqueness. Why ignore those traits when you have the potential for—'

'Please!’ 

The hat sighed (yes sighed), 'You cause me great conflict Regulus Black.' But Regulus didn't hear this declaration over the resounding din of, "SLYTHERIN!" 

Regulus thanked the Sorting Hat making quick promises to talk to him when he got bored of sitting on a shelf all day. He then hopped clumsily off the stool. His sorting had taken a whopping 4 minutes and 27 seconds, but the outcome was well worth the wait. The Slytherins cheered and Narcissa flashed him a gentle smile while Andromeda patted him on the back as he passed. He felt woozy and slightly lightheaded, he sat down next to Cissy not caring about how she was surrounded by other sixth years. 

A hand mussed up his hair lightly, "Good job, Reg. I was worried there for a second. What were you and that hat talking about, lunch plans?"

Regulus folded his arms on the table and placed his head on top, "I did promise to speak with the hat again if it ever got bored." 

She laughed, but Lucius Malfoy, that Malfoy boy who was practically glued to her side, crinkled his nose."How strange of you, you could've fit right in with those Ravenclaw freaks." 

"Don't insult people just because they have a higher IQ than you, Lucius," a 7th year boy quipped. 

Regulus was thankful for the diversion, but the damage had already been done. Regulus's face had paled, and his breathing shortened. Did Malfoy know? What if the hat had been talking aloud? Did everyone know? He snuck a glance at the Gryffindor table. Sirius was staring right back at him, their eyes met and Sirius gave him a smile and a wave. Regulus shyly smiled back and waved. He ducked down before James turned around to see who Sirius was greeting.

He'd rather steer clear of Sirius's new friends. They were the cause of well over half of his problems. Regulus didn't know what his brother saw in them: the Potter boy was gangly with lanky limbs he had not yet grown into, the brown haired bloke named Remus looked uncomfortable sitting their with the rest of their quartet, and Peter, the blond one, looked like he couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag. Regulus had the 7 hour misfortune of having to share a train compartment with these three. He mostly read for that time, and Remus tried to initiate a few polite conversations about his reading material which promptly fell flat after he revealed that the book was on dark creatures. Regulus would be looking into each of their backgrounds thoroughly. 

Yet even as Regulus disapproved of the gormless bunch, he knew that he hadn't ever seen Sirius look so carefree. At home there was always something to fight or someone to fight for. Here at Hogwarts Sirius could be completely free if only for nine months. Regulus secretly hoped Hogwarts would become like a second home to him as well. Perhaps now that they were both at school him and Sirius could spend more time together. Last year was dreadful not talking to his brother face-to-face until Christmas and Easter break. Not to mention that Sirius's often spotty descriptions of Hogwarts didn't do the school any justice and couldn't quite satiate Regulus's burning curiosity. 

The smell of warm food got Regulus's attention. He decided to forget the sorting hat and Sirius and his stupid friends for the time being and just enjoy the homestyle cooking of the Hogwarts house elves. He missed Kreacher already without the subtle reminders, but hopefully these months would serve as a sort of vacation for Kreacher without him knowing it.

He ate silently even as Lucius argued with a 7th year and Narcissa added her two-cents to a conversation on Arithmancy. Regulus was content to block out his apprehensions concerning school and the complications of his sorting and was perfectly satisfied with being oblivious to the world. At least for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hint: It's Fiddler on the Roof
> 
> Also, I’m sorry about the inconsistency with this chapter, but I just remembered that Lucius and Narcissa aren’t dating yet. I have a more interesting arrangement instead ;)


	4. A Perilous Environment

_All around me I saw red and gold—Gryffindor colors. I was in Gryffindor robes despite my sorting and in a Gryffindor dorm. Outside a violent storm was carrying on looking very much like a war across the sky. Plumes of black clouds rolled overhead and streaks of lightning rained down with respect to no one._

_A thunderclap and the ground beneath me shook. Falling to my hands and knees, I jumped away from a trunk sliding towards me. It crashed a few feet away, and I breathed a sigh of relief, but the tower was still swaying._

_It toppled, the tower bent like a snapped twig, and I went flying out the window. I couldn’t see with the rain in my eyes as I fell towards the ground at breakneck speed._

_Splash! I had somehow managed to fall into the Black Lake. Small miracles, I suppose._

_I pushed my arms and legs in a practiced motion, but my straining amounted to nothing. I wasn’t going anywhere, in fact I was sinking! I splashed vehemently against the greenish water losing more air as I panicked. Water filled my lungs and scorched my throat. I was on fire, everything was burning and struggling._

_I banged on the glass of the Slytherin dorms trying to wake everyone—anyone. They were all stuffed with dinner and didn’t even rouse._

_Although, I did notice that trunk looked oddly familiar. Despite the situation I took a closer look. It was me—it was me sleeping soundly in bed. But it couldn’t be me because I was here and dying painfully._

_The hell?_  
  
I woke up feeling too warm and too cold at the same time. It was the same dream that I had been having intermittently since I got to Hogwarts. I took a few delicious breaths of air and cursed Sirius under my breath for ever telling me that blasted story. 

There was shuffling outside of my bed curtains, my dormmates were up. And they were arguing. Apparently Corban Yaxley was accusing Mulciber of stealing his History of Magic notes. Mulciber had gotten high marks on the last test which he bragged to the whole year about. Considering that Mulciber was a goldfish with legs and a wand, I would be suspicious of him too. 

“Morning Regulus, it’s probably best you get up ‘fore you miss breakfast.” I pulled the curtains aside to reveal Evan Rosier already dressed. We weren’t technically related, but I’m quite sure if someone were to trace the family line back far enough they’ll find some relation through marriage. Either way I had met Rosier at previous events customary for purebloods to attend. Where he got the idea that we were friends and could call me by my first name I had no idea.

“Thank you, Rosier. I’ll just be a minute,” I replied politely. It just wouldn’t do to sacrifice formality because of such a small remark. 

“It seems the princess has finally awakened,” sneered Avery Wilkes. He was standing behind Mulciber on this just like he did with everything else. 

“You don’t go anywhere do you, Reginald? Could you kindly tell this silt for brains that I haven’t stolen any of his filthy stuff,” Mulciber requested.

It was true that I hadn’t made any friends after being at Hogwarts for nearly two months, but I didn’t like Mulciber poking his runny nose into my affairs. “It was thanks to your incessant arguing that I woke up, so I really should be thanking you I suppose. This matter doesn’t concern me at all, however.” I got up and began getting my school bag together, sending the message that this conversation was little but a nuisance.

“Of course, you wouldn’t dare stoop to the level of conversing with us, Reginald. Get off your high horse you’re not the only one here from a half decent family.” Mulciber was obviously tetchy about my blasé response. 

I really shouldn’t play on their field, but it would be a disgrace to present badly when all of them were staring and waiting for my next move. I decided to give them a show. “Actually, I will say that it’s interesting how you managed to get an ‘O’ on the last history of magic test when you can’t even get my name right. Your lack of knowledge regarding constellations in the sky, of which you live under, only supports Yaxley’s theory of your incompetence.” 

Mulciber looked thoroughly narked of which he should be, before grumbling out of the dorm along with Wilkes. Yaxley set up a glare going in my direction, but I ignored him in favor of getting ready. Rosier had buggered off to somewhere else a little earlier.

“I’d rather not have you fight my battles, cousin.” Yaxley said blocking my path to the restroom. 

“We’re hardly related Yaxley don’t flatter yourself with familiarity.” The Yaxleys were related to the Blacks by marriage only, and even that had been during a time when the Black name had been recovering from a scandal involving a marriage between a Black and a squib. 

”Just understand that this isn’t a playground, and your arrogance won’t protect you here. After all, what would a Black do if they were to soil their, oh so, precious hands?” Yaxley smiles smugly at me.

I lifted my head so we were eye to eye and put on an almost glacial expression. “Move.” I enunciated well and the years of presence classes paid off because Yaxley flinched before moving obediently. This couldn’t happen everyday, or I’d never get any peace. Or breakfast.

I finished getting ready with haste and set out of the dungeons. It was 7:45, not horribly late but it would most likely take me a good 7 minutes to even find the Great Hall. 

“Oi, Regulus!” Evan jogged up to me from down the hall. “Do you by any chance know the way to the Great Hall?”

I rolled my eyes at the crude greeting and let him think what he will. I was not about to admit that I only had a vague idea of where I was going. 

“This castle is huge! How are we expected to find anything here? The other day I ended up on the 7th floor while looking for Charms class, and then this Hufflepuff prefect laughed so hard their face turned red before giving me any directions. I should’ve mouthed off and said, ‘do your job, ‘Puff, before somebody else takes it,’ y’know.” 

I wanted to cleave my own skull. Even though I had had similar experiences, I wasn’t in the mood to listen to Rosier complain about insignificant nonsense. I was about tell him so, but then the floor disappeared before I could. Rosier caught me before I fell and slid all the way down the stairs like some kind of joy rider. Then he swung me to the other side in one smooth motion. 

Was that a dance step? I was going to admire his quick thinking, but he was grinning like a maniac. “Thank you, I wasn’t aware this castle was so akin to a death trap.”

He laughed and clapped me on my shoulder. I withheld a grimace only letting myself look mildly displeased. “That’s two times you’ve had to thank me this morning! You get yourself into a lot of trouble for being the quiet kid, Regulus.”

I smiled amicably enough in lieu of a response and set off with renewed vigor to find the Great Hall. Getting away from Rosier was a very good motivator.

It was still amazing to me just how large this castle was. I was no stranger to luxury, but this was something different. Every corner of Hogwarts was filled with magic and you could just feel it. A ghost waved as they fazed out of a portrait I knew hid a secret passage; I waved back. 

“Why do you suppose there are so many traps and tricks in the school?” Evan inquired. 

“It’s probably Godric Gryffindor’s way of testing our reflexes or Rowena Ravenclaw’s strategy for keeping our wits about us at all times,” I rationalized. We passed by the courtyard where some people were munching quietly on muffins and scones. We were close.

“Huh, I’ve never really connected the founders to Hogwarts but in a way you can see each of them in the building, not just the four houses.”

That sounds...actually insightful. “How do you mean?” I gave him my full attention now, few things interested me more than the ever changing building we were currently traversing. 

He blushed under the attention, which looked peachy on his tan skin, people were so easily flattered. Rosier looked like your average quidditch player. He had thick black hair that fell partially over his left eye and a good build especially in comparison to my skinny frame. I don’t like to think of myself as scrawny, but that’s nearly impossible when standing next to him. Even his face annoyed me: he had light green eyes like the underside of leaves, a straight nose, and bushy eyebrows. 

“Well, for example, the columns in the courtyard fit Godric’s dramatic style as well as the numerous towers of Hogwarts, and the library is as deeply expansive as Rowena’s knowledge. You can see Helga in the great hall where everything is organized and equal and Salazar’s brilliance in the sheer fact that the Slytherin common room is underwater.”

“Now that I think about it that makes a lot of sense. The founders built this place and probably invested a lot of their magic into it. They wouldn’t spend so much time on something that wouldn’t be worth their while.” I smiled when we reached the massive oak doors of the Great Hall. 

“I think I’ll be looking at Hogwarts with a new eye from now on. It might be interesting to figure out who built what in this maze,” I said pushing the doors open. 

We walked to the beginning of the Slytherin table and sat down. There weren’t a lot of students left inside. I took two scones for myself and Evan snagged a few pieces of bacon before breakfast disappeared. Now the race to potions begins.


	5. Kitchen Talks

Considering our different houses, not to mention our house rivalries, I had less contact with Sirius than l would’ve liked. Not that I’ll ever admit that to him. It was strange going whole weeks without talking save for perhaps a nod or “good morning” in the hallways. Though it was probably best for both of our reputations that neither was seen conversing too much with the opposite house.

That being said, I was currently making my way through the damp dungeons which I had become accustomed to over the months. The black bricks and bright torches gave an eery aura, and I couldn’t help but wonder why the founders decided to include a dungeon in a school. 

Perhaps it was simply a different time or perhaps it was Rowena Ravenclaw’s doing, she was always said to be a bit of an oddball. Regardless, I had to admit that I was having fun guessing which parts of Hogwarts were influenced by which founder. The best part is fact-checking my hypotheses with the book Hogwarts: A History. 

The whole activity was very Ravenclaw of me, so I decided to put a Slytherin twist to it and use the information to start conversations with Professor Flitwick. I already get O’s in Charms, but building rapport with your professors can come in handy. Professor McGonagall on the other hand was tougher and fairer. It’s only by doing good in her class that I’ll be able to win her respect, but whereas in Charms I can simply feel the magic and shape it to my intent in Transfiguration there are numerous more factors to be aware of. 

I turned a corner and came upon a portrait somewhat near the Dueling club. I would be joining that as soon as I felt I had enough experience to not completely embarrass myself. But my attention was on the portrait, I tickled the pear until it laughed and revealed the hidden entrance to the kitchens. This wacky idea was most likely Helga Hufflepuff’s, some of the older Hufflepuff’s had a reputation for preparing and selling certain, uhm, recreational medicines. Perhaps it ran in the house.

I stepped in and immediately had the attention of all the house elves inside.

“Does the young one require more food?” 

“Was the meal at lunch insufficient?” another asked.

“No, lunch was splendid. In fact it was so marvelous that I came here for more.” The fastest way to get anywhere with a house elf is to compliment them. They aren’t vain by nature, but they do so much work with so little compensation. It was was the least I could do, and I smiled as they looked around excitedly at what they could make.

“My name is Regulus Black. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble could I sit somewhere where I can wait for my brother to arrive?” 

“Of course.” One female house elf with brown hair led me over to an alcove with a table, a few comfortable looking chairs, and some flowery decor. 

“Thank you. Might I have your name?” I spoke quietly as to not disturb the fray of house elves preparing dinner. 

“It’s Linny, sir,” she replied. 

“Oh, that’s a lovely name.”

“Regulus is Sirius’s brother is he not?” I nodded, it would seem most of my conversations would be tainted with that line. 

She motioned for me to lean a little closer, and I obeyed. It probably wasn’t best to do such a thing in wizard company, but we were alone for now. 

“Just between Regulus and Linny, Linny likes Regulus much more than his older brother. Much better manners,” she immediately flushed, “What is Linny staying! How could she speak poorly of any of the young ones? Shame on Linny, shame!”

I saw her eyeing the door to what I presume is the pantry and could only guess that she wanted to jam her fingers in it. I grabbed her hand to hold her profuse head shaking still. “Thank you for the compliment, Linny. I would like some tea if you have the time. Do you perhaps have cherry?”

She nodded and scurried off to whip something up and for the briefest of moments I thought of Kreacher. Kreacher who would have no one to talk to. While mother cared well enough for the house elf, the long-standing Black reputation of cutting off house elf heads has always tormented my thoughts. Kreacher was getting old. 

“Hey, little brother!” Sirius clapped me on the shoulders effectively snapping me out of my reverie. “Hey, guys!” he called to the house elves working. They all simultaneously looked up and chorused back “hello, sir.” It was almost chilling. 

We sat down at the homey little table and looking around the four seats. I could tell that Sirius and his 3 friends had sat here more than once. The thought made my stomach twist. 

Soon enough Linny had come back with cherry tea and a tray of biscuits. She yelped and kept her head down when she saw Sirius. Closely following, another house elf brought over two cheese toasties and some communal tomato soup. 

“Hekor is so very sorry. The kitchens prides itself on only making handmade soups and these are the only leftovers. Hekor does apologize.”

“Don’t worry about it, Hekor. Believe it or not I can be good and share,” Sirius winked. Hekor brightened marginally and took his leave.

I poured myself some tea. The cherry aroma was light yet intoxicating and I simply breathed it in for a moment.

“Still love cherries I see. I didn’t even know there was a tea for that,” Sirius mumbled into his cheese toasties.

“There is a tea for every occasion,” I stopped inhaling and starting drinking. “How have you been? Anything interesting happen since we last talked?”

“Nothing much,” he dipped his toasties into our bowl of soup. “Oh! this one was good, we managed to break into the prefects bathroom and make all the water come out ice cold. The Ravenclaw prefects were sniffling for days!”

I rolled my eyes, “So besides almost starting an outbreak of pneumonia, what did you do?”

“Classes, homework, I don’t know, boring stuff. What about you, Reggie, what have you been up to?” he waggled an eyebrow theatrically. I wondered how much trouble he thought a first year could get into, but then remembered that in his first year he and his friends had placed exploding snap cards under the Great Hall tiles. Professors not excluded. 

“The same as you except I actually make use of the library. I’ve also been doing some exploring.” It’s probably best that I don’t mention the founders and their architecture. Sirius would only tease me. But instead Sirius looked almost worried.

“Hey, make sure you don’t hole yourself up in the library all the time. I missed you at the Halloween Feast. Why didn’t you go, it’s your first year?”

The simple answer was that I was far too busy making my way through the restricted section on the 4th floor library. However, come hell or high water there was no way I was going to tell my brother that. He’d probably clap me on the back and site this as the beginning of my rebellious streak. In truth, I knew all of the books in there were way beyond me, but it was interesting to read about obscure charms, runes, and potions. Grimmauld Place’s library had plenty of old, dusty books chock full of powerful and dark magic, but the entire room felt oppressive and like it was harboring some kind of evil. Plus, it helped that since everyone was distracted by the party I could move around more freely. 

“Being around so many loud people at one time is tiring. I much prefer to read in the sanctuary of an empty dorm.” I grimaced as Sirius double-dipped into the communal bowl of soup and made that worried face again. 

“You know of Rosier correct?” I hastily changed the subject, “He keeps on pestering me about trying out for the quidditch team next year. If you ask me it seems like a surefire way to plummet to your death.” 

Sirius laughed, and I almost breathed a sigh of relief. “You should try out for the team—just be quiet and let me finish!” 

I raised an eyebrow, “I didn’t say anything.”

“It was your face that said it all.”

“Okay, Sirius,” I dismissed the notion altogether. 

“You’re probably right. With your scrawny build, chaser or beater would probably get you creamed.” I didn’t protest: I was small, I was eleven, these things were normal. “Why don’t you try out for keeper? Or better yet seeker? It’s a game of reflexes and outsmarting your opponent, something you love. Not to mention it’s the best position for a recluse like you,” he said poking me in the forehead. 

A soft pink color creeped onto my cheeks, “It’s not that I don’t like working with others, just that it simply can be taxing at times. It’s much more efficient for me to work alone in some situations,” I took a moment to compose myself. “In any case, I might take it up if I remember. I do enjoy flying immensely, it makes me feel...free, weightless.” It makes me feel like I’m not me, but I didn’t say that because Sirius was looking at me with that dreamy expression. The only expression of his that was worse than his worried look. 

“I’m glad you’re making friends, Reg.” 

What? I don’t remember telling him I had made any new friends. I had grown well-acquainted with Mulciber and Wilkes after the little squabble in October, among other valuable connections mother instructed me to look out for in Slytherin house. However, I wouldn’t want to spend a whole evening with any of them. They were just connections...as they should be. 

“Evan is the kind to be outgoing and humorous enough for the both of you, more than making up for your dry personality,” Sirius laughed. Oh, is that who he meant? I decided to let him believe what he wanted, after all the teasing would only get worse if he discovered that I hadn’t yet made any friends at all. 

I glared half-heartedly, “I’ve been building a pretty good standing with my classmates. The younger vie for power, and the older are trying to consolidate it.” 

“What about you, what do you do in terms of obtaining power then?” Sirius smirked. 

I rolled my eyes and took a sip of my cherry tea, “Blacks don’t vie for power, we’re simply born with it.” It was a fact, one that had been drilled into my head since my birth. It was my birth that elevated me above the rest and my magic was all the proof one needed to support it. But what was I without my superior breeding? What if I never managed to catch up to Sirius and other prodigies? What if...?

“You sound like mum.” Sirius placed his head in his arms and rested on the table where his now empty plate had been. 

I didn’t have a reply. What was I supposed to say to that? What was that expression behind his eyes? Why was I questioning facts? Why was Sirius not returning home for Christmas? 

There were too many variables, too many “what if’s” and too many holes in my knowledge, but it wasn’t like a book could answer all the “why’s”. I suppose at long last I’ve finally found a problem that not even books could solve. How curious was it that the conundrum was my own family? 

“You know,” Sirius spoke up, “I really wasn’t surprised you got in Slytherin, Reggie, even though you practically scream Ravenclaw.” He toyed with a fraying piece of the argyle tablecloth. A truly horrendous design if you ask me. “Slytherin doesn’t deserve you, but now that you’re there you might as well bless them with your presence,” he smirked.

“Just like you should bless our house with your presence this Christmas, Siri. What’s going on? I heard that you were staying here for winter hols.”

Sirius blushed at the nickname. It wasn’t new, but somehow he still felt embarrassed by me calling him that within school walls, despite him brazenly calling me all manner of contortions of my name. 

He looked up and smiled, it was carefree and unassuming—perfectly innocent. “I just want to see what it’s like. Practically everyone will be out of the building, and it’ll be perfect for exploring, as you say, and setting up for our next prank.” 

“But—“ I faltered.

I look away. I don’t say anything more. The words “but I’ll miss you” catching on my tongue. 

Sirius seems to understand. “I’ll be back to pester you all Easter break, and here, I had this great idea.” He reaches into his bag and comes back up with a small black wooden box about the size of a fist. “Well really Moony had a great idea,” Sirius said sheepishly.

I scrunched up my face. “Oh, yeah, that’s what we call Remus sometimes. It’s a long story.” 

He handed me the box without further fanfare and holds up his own similar black box. “It’s modeled after a vanishing cabinet and charmed to transport things from one box to the other. This way we can send messages to each other from far away.” 

The spellwork was well-done. Stable and neat, it had been casted meticulously. There was a spell to block out interceptions and one to make new notes appear invisible to anyone but the owner. That kind of person specific charm would need a lock of hair or some other DNA, not to mention it would be quite difficult to cast. I made a note to revisit my research on Sirius’s friend Remus. 

“The spellwork is really good, detail-oriented and specific, thank you.”

Sirius preened at the praise, “Well it was Remus who had the idea and Peter who did the research for all the charms, but me and James were the ones casting. It was a team effort!” 

Sirius laughed again, and I swore that I could live off just that over winter hols. My brother and I are far from being attached at the hip, but this was our first Christmas apart, and I would miss him plenty. Especially considering that I’ll have no one to talk to but mother and father during Christmas dinner, which always proved to be quite a stuffy affair.

It was obvious Sirius’s friends cared a lot about him if they went this far just so he could communicate with his kid brother. James Potter was the only pureblood of the group, but his father, Fleamont was only newly made wealthy (relatively speaking because both his parents were elderly). His mother’s name was Euphemia, a Black. He was your general reckless and loud Gryffindor and for some reason Sirius seemed to love that. They seemed to be the closest. 

Remus Lupin (now in need of further investigation) was a halfblood. His mother was a muggle, Hope Lupin, and his father worked in the ministry, Lyall Lupin. He was a more restrained character, polite, knowledgeable, and a known user of frequent vulgar language. Apart from his blood status and choice of rhetoric he should be harmless. Should be...but there was something about him that spoke of restrained strength. He was an odd one and so a threat.

Finally, there was Peter Pettigrew. Another halfblood, his parents’ names were Juniper and Gregory, now deceased. He has been seen being picked up from the train by a woman who is his Aunt Enid. His mother and aunt run a bed and breakfast in a muggle city. He’s on the nicer side of Sirius’s motley friends and is studious despite not having the grades to show for it. Obviously, he’s not completely hopeless considering his role in this intricately charmed box. Another harmless one, but this time I think he might be truly harmless. He doesn’t seem like the cloak and dagger type, just plain. 

Despite all their flaws Sirius must seem to think that rainbows shined out of their backends because he is still going on about them. He had left talk of the box long ago and was now getting into a story about Potter and Peeves having a prank-off. Given enough time he’ll probably outgrow simply caring about them and begin to love them, and loving someone was dangerous. It made any normally harmless person a considerable threat. It made people do silly things. I will never forget what my mother taught me about the subject even if Sirius took it for granted. 

Love was the greatest threat to purebloods. 

By now all that was left of our meal was a few crusts and some dried up tomato soup, most likely mingled with Sirius’s backwash. I downed my tepid tea, winced, and stood. I felt like I could take a nap for 7 years and still not be satisfied but hell would freeze over before that stopped me from being cordial. 

“I’ll see you later Sirius.” He finally stopped talking and started registering his surroundings. “Alright, don’t be a stranger now, Reg,” he stood up and gave me a firm hug before leaving through the secret entrance. 

“Linny!” Immediately the house elf popped up by my side. “Hello, I was wondering if you needed any help cleaning this up. We did eat quite a bit.”

“Oh no! the young one Regulus should go straight up to his dorm and rest. Linny will take care of this all by herself. Linny is a good elf.”

I smiled back politely, “I don’t doubt it.” And with that she was scrambling to clean up the plates and cups we had used only moments prior. I watched for a few seconds before taking my leave. The dark halls seemed more oppressive than usual and my thoughts from before weighed down on me even more. 

I bypassed my classmates squabbling over a game of wizard’s chess in the common room before making it to my dorm. Sadly, both Yaxley and Rosier were in the room as well, but it was a lovely day outside or otherwise known as pneumonia weather. Rosier tried talking (barking) at me for few seconds, but I simply brushed him off with a quick greeting. 

I slid a medium sized square shape out from under my bed. It was completely white, completely blank. This easel could be anything I wanted it to be. I dragged it out of the commons, up the stairs, and through the halls until I was perched right at the edge of the Black Lake. 

I let whatever was in my head guide my brushstrokes. I had no idea what I was making, but it involved a lot of grey paint. I hoped it wouldn’t be anything too somber. The wind blew, completely bypassing my jacket and sending a chill down my spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part where the Black brothers talk about vying for power is inspired by the work of the author unspeakable3. I'm pretty sure.


	6. Home for the Holidays

I staggered off the train with my limited luggage. I had been sitting down for approximately 7 hours straight, which was spent sleeping. I was rested and ready to deal with the pandemonium of the holiday season. 

Children scurried passed as they spotted their parents, paying no heed to the others around them. I walked calmly towards the apparition area. My mother was never tardy nor early, she arrived right on time. Black hair gently hiding away gray hairs in a twisted crown ending in a tight bun. She wore a forest green cloak and stately clothes: a pressed collared blouse, a knee-length pencil skirt, and a golden broach pinned to her lapel, always properly accessorized.

“Hello, mother,” I said speeding up my pace. 

She smiled back warmly, “How do you like Hogwarts so far, Regulus? I hope the curriculum was challenging enough for you.”

“I enjoyed it. The library is immense, and it was surreal to finally learn spells that I had previously only ever read about.” She continued asking me questions about Hogwarts sometimes reminiscing about her comparative days at Beauxbatons, and we fell into an easy conversation. Tension and stiffness seeped out of my muscles as she seemed to be in a good mood.

“I received word that Sirius won’t be coming home for Christmas.” She looked over my head almost as if she were willing him to appear, “Did he tell you anything?”

I shook my head, swallowing thickly. Something about Sirius’s explanation during our kitchen talk was off, and it was too weak of an excuse to relay to mother, so I didn’t. “No, he didn’t tell me anything. Just that he would be staying at Hogwarts and returning for Easter.”

She eyed me pensively for a moment. I didn’t shift, but I could feel my fingers begin to curl around the sleeves of my sweater. By this time next year, there would no doubt be thumbholes dug into it.

Finally she shook her head, “I don’t know what goes on in that boy’s head. You make sure to stick close to him as well as your cousins Narcissa and Andromeda. Family is key, Regulus.” 

She slid her arm around my shoulder, and we were gone with a crack. We apparated straight into the foyer of Grimmauld Place and mother went to hang up my coat. “Your father couldn’t make it because he had to meet with some important guests. Don’t bother his study.” 

I didn’t think there was anything on this Earth that could make me want to willingly go into father’s study. It was quiet in the eerie manner and my father was a man of few words and scarcer affections. The only time I ever feel close to him is when he takes me and Sirius to Diagon Alley on business. Then he explains our affiliations with each shop, what’s reputable and what’s not. Besides those brief interactions Orion Black was little more than a stranger. 

“Of course,” I nodded back. I made a beeline straight for my room, making sure to avoid the dreaded 14th step. 

“Oh and Regulus! Since Sirius isn’t here, I’ve decided to forego the yearly Christmas photo. You all never sit still enough for it anyway,” she mused before disappearing into a hallway.

I smiled wide and ran the rest of the way to my room as quick as I dare. That strikes one stressful Christmas event off the list.

I placed my school bag out of the way and take in my room. It finally hit me that over the next 7 years its importance to me would probably fade. For now, though, I flopped onto my bed and rested peacefully for a few moments. Perhaps I should try out my new contraption. Going to my cherrywood desk, I pull Sirius’s little magic box from my robes.  
_  
Siri,  
This year there will be no Christmas photo. Dare I say that I’m glad you are absent. I shouldn’t lie like that, but hearing your squawks of protestation are always amusing. Father has “important business” over in his study. He did not come to platform 9 3/4. I hope his business knows what they are in for. In any case what are you doing with your free time?  
R.A.B  
_  
The reply came in less than 10 minutes, Sirius must be in his dorm.  
_  
Reggie,  
Thank Merlin, those dreaded family photos are the bane of my existence. Father has business over? Perhaps you should be adventurous and find out who the poor bloke is. As for what I am up to, it’s a secret. However, I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Jamie, Pete, and Remus, stayed this year as well. I think they’re doing it out of pity. James stares out the window wistfully as does Peter. Remus enjoys his home, but doesn’t mind staying at school. The martyr._

 _Maybe we’ll all go to the Potters’ for Boxing Day next year. Do you think mum would allow that?  
Sirius  
_  
What was wrong with their house? Theoretically, Regulus knew that Grimmauld Place was quite dreary and requires constant vigilance if you didn’t want to have your face stolen by the mirrors or eaten by the carpet or the cabinets or anything really. It was probably incredibly relaxing to walk on stairways without counting your steps—on second thought, Hogwarts didn’t have the best track record either.  
_  
Siri,  
I’ve always known you were mad, but this is a new level. Spying on father, the king of paranoia. Not your best idea. I really hope that you haven’t managed to set the castle on fire with your “exploring.”_

_And what am I spoiled pumpkin juice? You’re not being forced to stay there. Why would your friends pity you? Mother asked after you, and I claimed ignorance. Come home for Easter with a bloody good excuse for missing winter hols. And if you think I’ll test the waters for seeing how our mother would react to you missing yet another holiday then you’re dafter than I previously imagined.  
R.A.B_

_Reggie,  
Ha ha ha! So far I’m mad and daft, and you’re spoiled pumpkin juice. Lovely. Perhaps you should come on the tour of Casa de Potter. They are a “𝓌𝒽ℴ𝓁ℯ𝓈ℴ𝓂ℯ 𝓅𝓊𝓇ℯ𝒷𝓁ℴℴ𝒹 𝒻𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓁𝓎.”  
Sirius  
_  
I could practically hear the sarcasm dripping from the words. I was a little annoyed that he ignored my other questions though.  
_  
Siri,  
Maybe  
R.A.B_

 _Reg,  
Cool, I’ve got go now, but think about what I said. Father would be none the wiser.  
Sirius  
_  
I sighed, sometimes it seemed like my brother’s mind was organized like a junky file cabinet. “Kreacher, I need you!” Without the obnoxiousness of a crack Kreacher appeared.

“Yes, master Regulus?”

“I’ll take lunch in my room today. Thank you.” And just like that he was gone again. House elf magic was really something to be able to apparate and disapparate within wards. Surely, someone has thought to study this phenomenon. Really, elf magic was a cut above wizards. Mother would hang me for such thoughts, but I have to keep myself entertained somehow.

It was considered unhealthy for me to paint in my room. Even with all the windows open, I still felt nauseous from the smell of acrylic paint. But the alternative was the secondary drawing room, which had practically become my second bedroom, but to get there one must pass my father’s study. Maybe it was blind paranoia, but I didn’t want to tempt myself nor did I wish to meet my father’s business partners. I would save that honor for Sirius. 

I loaded my brush with more greys and whites in different shades. It seems to be a room but only the bottom portion is seen. It’s as if someone took a picture of the room while sitting on the grey and white bedspread. It needed something though. A door, yes, every room needs a door.

I worked for another half hour until the fumes became too poignant and I had to save whatever brain cells I had left. I hid under my covers while my room aired out, the frigid wind driving me deeper into the sheets. Before long, I was fast asleep. It was the blissful, dreamless kind of sleep that I had missed since entering Hogwarts. Hogwarts was loud and full of many wonders whereas home was familiar and constant. 

The dawn was shining in my face when I woke up. Admittedly, I felt slightly disoriented that I had slept through the whole day. There was a covered sandwich on my desk and a note accompanying it. It read, “Regulus, you must be tired from your journey. Sleep well and join us for a late breakfast at 9:00, Mother.” 

Pocketing the note, I nipped down to breakfast after getting cleaned up. Breakfast was always a much stuffier affair than warranted. It was at a Godforsaken hour of the morning so no one really talked and listening to each other eat was more tense than it should be. Regardless, I put on a suitable expression, greeted my parents, and ate an acceptable amount of food. I wasn’t very hungry, but I choked down a roll and some sausages to avoid being fussed at. 

“How was your sleep?” Mother inquired breaking the long held silence. No, don’t do that.

“It was good, thank you. I didn’t even know how tired I was. I never take that long of a nap.” The correct sentence was that I never take naps, but explaining the entire situation with the paint might reflect badly on me. 

Father turned the page of The Daily Prophet, “Imagine, not knowing when you’re tired. Do you even pay attention to yourself, boy?” 

I assumed that he hadn’t remembered which one of us was home for the holidays, Sirius or me. We didn’t look so much alike, it’s only because we’re about the same height that confusion comes in. It’s not my fault Sirius is slightly shorter than average. My hair is more curly than my brother’s and Sirius’s face is more angular. Not to mention that the difference is made clear as soon as one of us opens our mouths. 

“Perhaps, he can start by eating a well-rounded breakfast,” my mother inputted while piling scrambled eggs onto my plate. Great. “But...no peculiar dreams, correct?”

There it was, the clincher. I swallowed some egg, “No, none at all.” I wasn’t lying this time, but still she refused to be contented. The rest of breakfast I could feel her peering at me.

After breakfast, I secluded myself in the Black library. It was nothing like Hogwarts library in that it felt malicious. There was a curse tied to the room that made your voice not rise above a whisper shout. Some books would try to take your fingers off, some books insulted your clothes, and some books had storms and other disasters in them. It was a headache to deal with books with personalities but long ago I had learned the secret to wrangling them. A good silencing charm never worked better. 

The morning and afternoon went by quickly. I spent roughly half an hour holed up in the library until the dark aura finally got to me. Taking a peek around every corner before moving through a hallway, I made my way to a 3rd floor guest room. From there I steadily worked my way upwards towards the 5th floor spending approximately an hour and twenty minutes reading in each. This way it was harder for someone to bother me, but this form of evasion was really only helpful when Sirius was home.

I go through books by Bathilda Bagshot, books about transfiguration, books on charms, books about carnivorous plants, and books on astronomy. The stars are placed in the night sky and light up the expansive dark with each whispered utterance. 

On the fifth day of my reading matinee, I pick out a book on runes. The class was available to 3rd years and higher, and I wanted to see what might be taught. I had already had a basic understanding of runes and some cursory knowledge of blood runes thanks to my childhood education, but it never hurt to be thorough. And was I thorough, runes were quite fascinating little pieces of magic indeed. Words have power, yes, but drawings were another degree altogether. Perhaps the varying signs intrigued the artist in me or perhaps it was a different reason altogether, but I soon fell head over heels for the subject. 

——

The morning of the 23rd was a cold one. The floor felt like icicles beneath my feet and the air was stale and dry. Breathing was almost painful as I took in the prickly oxygen. It was my own fault really. I had fallen asleep tracing constellations on the roof, and now I was sure to come down with some ailment.

I attended breakfast with my parents and they wished me a happy birthday. I had almost forgotten without Sirius there to make such a fuss over it, however, the one hundred galleons I get is almost enough to distract me from that thought. 

The mundane morning routine was the only continuity in my day. After breakfast we would apparate over to the manor house where my Uncle Cygnus and Aunt Druella lived. Narcissa greeted me with a hug and a new book on defense against the dark arts. Apparently the position has been cursed for decades, which I guess is supposed to justify why most of our professors in that class are rubbish. 

For the most part I wasn’t allowed to slip off because my mother no longer had the heir to tote around like a trophy. I didn’t mind it much, but it became taxing after a while. Sometimes though I would be called upon to make arbitrary small talk with one of my parents’ colleagues or worse—a possible female suitor. 

The Black Family name has carried on since the Middle Ages, it was not unheard of for them to take precautionary measures to ensure that the line continues. Just because I understand it doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it. I shuffle through the rest of the day and eventually an opening presents itself. 

“This is my second son Regulus. He’s well-versed in many different veins of magic and particularly shines in his charms knowledge.” My mother introduces me to another very distantly related cousin. They covertly compete over who had the more gifted child. I had the better skill set and education, but Hilton, the woman’s son, was certainly more threatening looking. While our matriarchs battled it out, we were left in each other’s company.

I was determined to make the small talk required of me, but this Hilton Selwyn character made it exceptionally challenging. He constantly glared at me even when I tried to make small talk. Apparently, he attended Durmstrang and that was of plenty interest to me, but the way he spoke...it was like deciphering baby babble!

“So, what is Durmstrang like? What kind of classes do first years take?”

“Durmstrang...oh yes, Durmstrang my school. It’s nice. I learn a lot there.” I waited for him to say more, but he was now looking at the ceiling. For a moment I considered the the possibility that he was simply shy, but then his eyes snapped back to mine and leveled me with a glare. I remained amicable.

“What do you do there?” I asked smiling politely. 

“Well in Durmstrang, everyone fights. There are fighting classes....I’m not very good. It’s nice and supervised though.” Another long pause, “I’m sure it must be nice to win….” He looked wistfully into his glass of apple cider for a moment. 

“I’m sorry about that,” I shuffled my feet awkwardly, “Practice makes perfect, I suppose.”

He glared again, but that might have been my fault. “You know you can tell a lot about an apple from its juice. This one is light. So, it must not have many vitamins.”

“Do you have a strict dietary plan?” I had heard that some families liked to eat only the freshest foods in an effort to maintain internal purity. In my opinion you’re either born pure or not, but I suppose it doesn’t hurt to humor others. “The host is my elder cousin, so I could—“

“The fights at Durmstrang are well-known. Once, one broke out in the canteen….” 

Did he just have the nerve to cut me off! Suddenly, I would kill for the boy to shut up. For the first 15 minutes, I had been politely trying to pull any compound sentence from his lips, but now it seems I was better off not trying. There was a niggling feeling in my head telling me to be more accommodating, but I really couldn’t be bothered anymore. Talking to people was exhausting, and I was quite spent from the previous 3 hours of chit chat after dinner at five o’clock. I seriously hoped this wouldn’t mark the beginning of some kind of temperamental teen years. I politely excused myself to the bathroom when the boy moved on to fighting merpeople. 

The halls were awash with gentle candlelight as I made my way towards the library. It was a fairly large room with towering bookcases that one often had to get a stool to reach the upper levels, but it was a step up from the official Black Family library at Grimmauld. There was no dark aura or quieting curse or emanating evil. Of course, tomes of dark magic were still present, but I took great care to avoid those ones. In time I would pick through them slowly but now was not that time. 

Settling into a corner illuminated by a fire, I cracked open the book Cissy had given me and dipped further into the cushions. It was quiet with only the crackle of the fire for ambience as minutes melted into hours.

——

The next day comes and goes without word from Sirius. Sirius does not respond to my messages, he does not wish me a happy birthday. I paint more. 

I owl Narcissa, and she tells me that Sirius probably just forgot what day it was. He’s always getting into trouble so one day might blur into the next. That perhaps I should try thinking of something else. My thoughts are drawn to a failed gift exchange of Christmas past, and I set my heart on something crazy. I paint more. 

I have begun to look for a gift for Kreacher, my house elf. My father and I go to Diagon alley. For once he looks happy—or rather—pleasantly existent. I do Christmas shopping. Christmas Eve passes by and still nothing for my devoted house elf. Still nothing from Sirius. I paint more. My mother shows her worry by commandeering my presence in the drawing room and making me play the piano. I eat a silent dinner. 

Then, unexpectedly, Christmas comes and goes. I receive new paints and subtle warnings about painting in my room. They go in one ear and out the other. I feel slightly glum, but I don’t know why. Perhaps because things are changing rapidly. I paint more.

I finish my painting. It is familiar, it is August 31st. Only the edge of a grey spotted bedspread is visible in an otherwise dark grey room save for the slightly ajar door spilling in warm yellow light. Somehow it captures all I am feeling, and who I am thinking about, and it is perfect. I give it as a gift to Kreacher who fawns over it. It’s funny how just when someone else shows interest in my work is when I begin to pick it apart. I suppose it’s like a built in limiter, making sure my ego never goes rampant. I’m simply glad he likes it. He makes me tea, and I watch him make dinner. My eyelids grow heavy, but I stay seated believing that I can ride out the drowsiness. My last thoughts are of Kreacher receiving a grey painting a day late and smiling like it’s Van Goh’s Starry Night. I wake up in my bed.


	7. Duellers and Dancers

“Mr. Black! I’d appreciate it if you stayed behind this lesson,” Professor Flitwick called out to the throng of rapidly exiting students of which I was spearheading.

I cringed at the call of my surname somehow hoping that Sirius had managed to miraculously appear and set off a load of dungbombs or some other form of nonsense. I waded back through the gaggle of classmates and carefully avoided the sneer sent my way from Yaxley. What his obsession with me was I did not know.

“Yes professor, you wanted to see me?” 

Professor Flitwick was a short man with possible goblin ancestry (no one really had the gall to outright ask); he always wore pinstripe suits and was famous for his duelling expertise. The two may seem unrelated, but he once told me in a very long conversation about wand cores that the pinstriped suits served as a kind of optical illusion meant to, if only for a moment, stun his opponents. He was prone to making corny jokes in class and was always exuberant in his lessons. He sometimes was partial to certain students but never based on family background. It was obvious he loved what he did and took joy in teaching. I could admire the transparency in a person like him.

However, none of this thought process made its way through my brain in this instance. Instead I relied on my acting skills cultivated from having to lie through my teeth to avoid a lashing. It never worked then either. 

“Do you believe in karma, professor?”

His eyes widened in intrigue—perfect. “Well I wouldn’t discount it. The world is a large and baffling place.”

“Excellently stated, professor, it’s my apparent world view that the kneazle had it coming one way or another, and I just happened to speed up the process. So you see we would’ve reached the same ending at some point. You won’t blame me for fate’s mistakes will you, professor?“ 

“No, well—I don’t…what?” Professor Flitwick took a moment to compose himself. “Well that’s neither here nor there, Mr. Black. You see I have a bit of a proposition for you.”

Well that’s refreshing considering that I was about to reach an impasse in the the falling action of my formulated story. “What kind of proposition, professor?”

“Are you perhaps interested in joining the duelling club? I think you’d do well in such an environment considering your knack for charms, and I would provide you with extra credit for attending. It would be a good learning experience, eh, not to mention that we could use the members,” he added sheepishly.

I stood still in shock for a moment. I had considered joining the club previously but due to my relative lack of experience in duelling I made an executive decision that I’d rather not embarrass myself in such a manner, however being scouted by a professor was an entirely different matter. Good things truly did come to those who wait. 

“Are there any prerequisite requirements that I should be aware of beforehand?”

“Not that I know of, we meet in the dungeons on Mondays and Fridays from 6 to 7. If you’re interested drop by, and we’ll welcome you with open arms.” Professor Flitwick’s easy grin seemed to morph into a more serious expression, “However, Mr. Black, I do believe this whole ordeal involving a kneazle and karma should be appropriately addressed. Now—“

“Oh, there’s no need to worry, professor,” I repositioned my hands to behind my back, “There is no kneazle. I made the tale up.”

“Why would you feel the need to do such a thing?” he asked with genuine worry leaking out of his voice.

I couldn’t exactly state that I had made up a nonsensical lie in order to avoid getting detention for an act I have no recollection of committing, now could I. “I was worried I had been called back for making a mistake in class and began speaking in excess. I apologize for any confusion.”

“Mistakes are always welcome in my class. I like to believe mistakes are the author of discovery!”

I smiled, “I really had better head down to potions now, thank you for the invitation, Professor Flitwick.” 

So, just like that I decided to join the duelling club with my scrappy defense against the dark arts first year’s repertoire and knowledge of a few obscure spells under my belt. 

——

The double doors to the duelling cub were tucked away in a depression in the Dungeons where the voices inside couldn’t be heard by the classrooms and studying students nearby. I glanced back down at the map in my hands, looking for all the world like it and been drawn by a 6 year old. A permanently winking cartoon face and bright stars lined the area where I was standing marking it as the correct passage. I felt the cool, humid air in my lungs as I breathed deeply before opening the doors.

Inside there were test dummies, chairs, a table lined with refreshments, and most notably a large arena in the center of the room. Students milled about talking and hurling hexes at dummies from trick shot angles. The club was small for being run by a teacher; there were only a handful of upper years and a mixed bag of 4th, 3rd, and 2nd years. I noted with dread that myself and one other boy were the only first years in the entire club room. 

Perhaps what was most surprising to be in the room though was Professor Sprout. The plant-loving teacher had never before struck me as the duellist type especially since she was all about safety in the greenhouses. The plump woman clad in Hufflepuff yellow seemed to notice my bemusement as she walked over to the door to welcome me in. 

“Hello, dear, come in quickly or the draft will blow in,” she greeted pleasantly. “I see the way you’re looking at me, and I have to tell you that in my day I was quite the accomplished duelist. I would even say that I’ve still got it. Professor Flitwick isn’t the only teacher who can handle themselves in battle you know,” the woman boasted. 

“I’ll be sure to remember from now on that it’s the herbologists to watch out for.”

She laughed and guided me over to a spot next to an older girl wearing plainclothes, but who I could obviously tell was a prefect by the way she held herself ramrod straight. The girl had a bob of wavy light brown hair restrained from her face with several hairpins and held her hands behind her back like she was an auror at attention. 

“Oh, this is Coraline Shuffet, one of my prefects, and I believe 5 years your senior, Mr. Black.”

A 6th year Hufflepuff then. She looked at me with a discerning eye before stretching a hand down with a smile. I reached to shake it, however an explosion jolted me backward before I could, you see. In the middle arena now stood a disgruntled 7th year and a smug Professor Flitwick. It would seem a duel may have started already, and between a teacher and a student no less! Of course, the student was a Gryffindor because who else would be brazen and daft enough to go up against a professor on the first day of club. 

“Cocky one, isn’t he?” Shuffet snorted.

“If you missed it Mr. Nilf just used Bombarda maxima to which Professor Flitwick responded with a torrent of wind, Ventus Duo, which swallowed it whole,” Professor Sprout commentated.

“And it’s a good thing too or we all would’ve been chasing embers from our ankles.”

“I’m surprised though,” I chimed into the older women’s conversation, “A spell like Ventus Duo should’ve fed the flames not to mention that a ‘duo’ would be less powerful than a ‘maxima.’” I was careful not to phrase my response as a question lest it be assumed that I was inept and not simply contributing to the conversation.

Professor Sprout beamed eager to show off her knowledge, “Well, it depends on how much impact you put into it sometimes too. With a spell using flames like Bombarda even if you tack on maxima one is more likely to be cautious of their surroundings, however a caster using wind doesn’t have to worry about burning their hand off and doesn’t have to hold back. This all goes back to intent of magic which I’m sure you’ll get more into later.”

I already knew all about magical intent. A whole summer had been devoted to sitting in father’s office learning about bending both magic and people to one’s will. With boredom, I turned back to the battle at hand, watching as the student and teacher danced around the arena, throwing out spells deftly without so much as a whisper. I wanted to do that someday as well. 

The Shuffet girl seemed to notice my excitement and beamed down at me like older people were inclined to do with wide-eyed, foolhardy children. I grit my teeth, such minute lapses in my bravado couldn’t be allowed or who’s to say that one day I won’t choke when a good mask actually mattered. 

Just as about everyone predicted, the seventh year lost the duel being taken down by a simple Stupefy spell of all things. Which was truly unfortunate, because he ended up missing the look on Professor Flitwick’s face when he overbalanced and faceplanted into the ground. A good Locomotor Wibbly is essential in any troublemaker’s arsenal. How I managed to miss the snickering of my brother and the Potter boy until now will forever remain a mystery. They were together as usual and quietly making chaos. Unbeknownst to me, Sirius turned to me a split second after I turned away. 

Finally, the actual club meeting began. Professor Flitwick gave a brief lesson on various forms of duelling such as a defensive, aggressive, or sneaky style. We go over common offensive and defensive spells as well as the importance of speed, creativity, and non-offensive spells. 

“Some spells may not seem fit for a duel, but you’ll find that a well placed jelly-fingers curse might indeed aid you in turning the tides of a battle,” the man lectured.

Next, we moved on to practicing our spell casting on dummies lining the walls while the older years actually got to duel three pairs at a time under the watchful eye of Professor Sprout. While those not currently duelling, took notes or called out spells to use in much the way one would when witnessing a fight in the halls. It became increasingly clear to me after dodging a haywire curse, that the duelling club was in desperate need of a bigger space. Growing tired of being ever in danger of having my head sprout into two, I moved to make myself a smaller target by sitting along the rows of students spectating the duels from the walls. 

“I guess we’re the only first years here, huh. I rushed here immediately after transfig, but if I had known that we’d be starting with an impromptu duel then I would’ve changed out of my uniform.”

It would seem as though Hufflepuff house lives up to its reputation of being overly friendly. The boy had relatively large freckles dotting the left side of his face along with curly chestnut brown hair and forest green eyes, making him quite memorable. “You’re in my Charms class. Eric Snow, correct?”

The other perked up, “Yeah, I go by Ricky though. I’m sorry what’s your name again?”

Why did I even bother trying with these halfbloods? “My name is Regulus Black. I go by Regulus Black.” 

Snow was a giggler, “Okay, Mr. Black, I’ll be sure to remember from now on.”

“Tarantellegra.”

My head head whipped to the right upon hearing the whispered spell and just as I did two of the 4th year duelists broke into the Macarena. Sirius and Potter could not keep their laughter contained. What have those prats done now.

“What did you two even come here for?” I hissed over at them.

Sirius smirked, “Why, to make mischief of course!”

“Wow! they’re really dancing down there,” Snow commented as the dancers moved into the hokey pokey all while still trying to fling jinxes at the other. The whole ordeal couldn’t help but be entertaining to watch, but I refused to laugh for the sheer principle of it. “Is that part of the curriculum, I wonder? Maybe I can sign up for tango lessons.”

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, I can only assume you two are behind this,” Professor Sprout deduced while freeing the duelists from their quick-footed torture. 

“You’ll have to be a little more specific, Pomona, there are two of them,” Professor Flitwick supplied.

“Oh yes! You’re quite right. James and Sirius, front and center! It’s time for you to put some of that eagerness to good use.”

Both idiots jovially marched over to the center of the arena having gathered much of the attention in the room for themselves. Despite Sirius embarrassing our family name in front of professors, I couldn’t help but buzz with excitement. My brother thrived under attention, this would be a duel I didn’t want commentated to me. 

They bowed dramatically past 90 degrees to each other. The two were such kids with minds not far past an embryonic state. A Black especially should go with a simple incline of the head with exception to a duelling bow which is required to be no more than 15 degrees. You have to follow the rules in these circumstances. A pureblood is no better than an animal if one can’t even follow simple etiquette. 

The duel begun with the two both bellowing out the same hex, and so they continued with a shrunken head each. Distasteful. They continue horsing around with balding spells and spells that make one sneeze sardines. Sirius followed this spell up with Rictusempra apparently knowing that Potter begins sneezing after laughing too hard. The duel was less of a fight and more of a comedy show designed to make their audience chuckle, and laugh they did. 

“Ugh, I’m tired of looking at your ugly gob—Melofors!” 

Promptly, Potter’s still shrunken head turned into a pumpkin which occasionally sneezed out sardines. “And I’m more than fed up with listening to you _Mimblewimble_ on!” 

The spectators heads swerved to Sirius who looked perfectly fine save the bald shrunken head, “Yu jus mat ma face ’s pwettyer tham yous!” Sirius yelled with a perfectly slip-knotted tongue. 

“Excellent spellwork, boys! Though how you managed to learn so many spells not included in the curriculum is a wonder,” Professor Flitwick complimented with a hint of exasperated confusion. 

“Filius, I think they might just actually— _read!”_ Professor Sprout laughed. 

“Just not their textbooks, that is.” 

The two continued laughing and I slowly began to see exactly why the duelling club was lacking in members. It took a very specific personality to put up with this type of shenanigans, and I, who admittedly was partially enjoying myself, did not mull over what the traits of those personalities entailed. 

Beside me however, Snow could hardly catch his breath from freely laughing so hard, “They’re absolutely hilarious! Is that your brother?”

I sorely wanted to deny that I had any kind of relation to the fool down there making a circus of himself alongside blood traitors for the sheer amusement of halfbloods and mudbloods. The disgust slowly began to overtake the glimmer of amusement I once felt. What was Sirius doing with all that talent? 

For the second time that day, Sirius caught sight of me without my knowledge. 

Suddenly, it seemed the nature of the battle had shifted. Instead of wild and crazy jinxes nobody had ever heard of Sirius began firing off colourful sparks of light which left James dazed, all with his tied tongue still. James, perplexed as he was, followed suit letting out a stream of white sparks leaving Sirius with laboured breathing and the arena hard to see. Both boys smiled at each other wryly, it would seem that the real duel had just begun. Sirius straightened for a counter, lifting his wand he—

“It would seem we’re all out of time for your duel,” the volume enhanced boom of Professor Sprout’s voice startled the duellists noticeably as they rocked on their feet. “Excellent casting, James and Sirius, you certainly made me miss the days of being young and sprightly with all your hopping about! Don’t forget to grab some light refreshments on your way out, everybody.” 

The Gryffindors slumped their shoulders in exhaustion, quickly transfiguring each other back to their normal head shapes among other reversals. 

“James and Sirius, I quite like the sound of that,” James mused.

Sirius punched him in the shoulder, “Only because your name’s first.”

——

“Thank you, for inviting me to join the duelling club, Professor Flitwick. I believe I will be able to learn a lot here.”

“Well, that’s quite alright! Quite alright, indeed. You did well today and after a few more practicals, we’ll be beginning—formal—one on one combat for the 1st through 3rd years. I have no doubt that you will be anything less than exemplary, Mr. Black”—the short man adjusted his glasses— “You’ll find that the duelling club presents the perfect opportunity to gain both practical skills and forge strong friendships. There’s nothing quite like a pair duel with someone to guard your back,” the professor responded giddily. “For future reference though, it’s not a must that you have to receive a recommendation to join an after school activity though some….others might disagree. For example! the choir club I orchestrate is always looking for fresh voices!”

Instinctively, I plastered on a politely interested smile to avoid grimacing or altogether exiting the conversation, “Amazing! with all the things professors are in charge of, when do you ever find the time to rest?”

Professor Flitwick’s smile falters, “The break room is full of rejuvenating wonders. Now go on and mingle with the rest of them! I think I saw another first year around here somewhere.” With that the man took his leave from the conversation altogether. Just as father had taught, there was a way to bend people to your will even if only a little bit at a time.

The refreshments table was crowded with students grumbling about the healthy snacks laid out and shoving for the drinks containing some level of sugar content higher than 2%. Conversely, I hung back waiting for a chance at the fruit laid out in little cups with a perpetually winking smiley face. I wasn’t particularly fond of the cartoonish face, you see, however the fruit cocktail did contain my favorite food. 

“Here, cherries right?” Sirius said stepping into my personal space and pressing a winking cup into my hands. 

“ThaNK—“ I choked out when the Potter boy suddenly sprouted up from behind me. 

“So, you’re the little brother I’ve heard about. I don’t know, Sirius, he doesn’t look as clever as you told me,” Potter bantered happily, “James Potter, roguishly handsome and future quidditch extraordinaire, at your service.” 

I shook his hand firmly not drawing it out any longer than needed. It was more of a kindness than a snub I reasoned as the Potter boy seemed slightly uncomfortable with shaking hands with someone close to his age. 

“You’re like a tiny businessman.”

“And you’re like a slightly taller, above average corporate employee,” I retorted with a tightlipped smile.

The Potter boy didn’t really know how to respond to that and an awkward silence was left in the middle of the three of us. It was decidedly in the middle because I was determined not to show any signs of discomfort around Potter, remaining the perfect picture of calm. My poor fruit cocktail went untouched though.

Finally, Sirius seemed to crack, “Don’t mind him, he’s just being a brat—“ I rolled my eyes, but let him continue. “So, what did you think of our performance?”

My head tilted to the left unconsciously, “Oh, well, the beginning was certainly crass and made of mockery of the art of duelling.”

While Potter cringed, Sirius just hummed urging the me to continue as he was used to my being a quote, unquote, “spoilsport.”

“I suppose sometime towards the end when you started taking things a little more seriously it became….acceptable,” upon seeing Sirius’s frown I tacked on a compliment with a sigh, “The sparks were a nice touch though, very flashy, very you.”

“It might as well be a standing ovation from you then,” Sirius chuckled.

In all honesty, I was quite baffled Sirius actually cared what my thoughts were, and it seemed the Potter boy was taken aback as well. He levelled Sirius with a knowing look I wished I knew how to decipher like a rune. Sirius saw Potter open his mouth to seemingly voice a question and wrapped his arm around the scruffy haired boy’s neck in a headlock a moment before he could. 

“Anyway, nice seeing you, but Jamie here has an appointment with Filch, and it’d be a shame if he missed it like last time. Bye!”

I shrugged the strangeness off in favour of finishing my fruit, our family had always been known to be a little off our broomsticks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Regulus fully intends to make good on his promise to have lunch with the sorting hat.

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is. The first chapter of this behemoth of a story that I am slowly losing the zeal to write. Also, you can just ignore that name at the bottom of the title pic that may or may not be mine. There is more to be said, but let us save it for another meeting. Till then, farewell.


End file.
